CHAPTER V

Pellison went back to his professional brethren and drawing them into a corner told them what had happened. The Superintendent’s ears pricked—he foresaw big business. But Wilkins made a grimace which signified understanding. “That’s pretty plain, Mr. Pellison,” he said. “The swag’s in that parcel the man registered at the Post Office.” “Doubtless,” agreed Pellison. “That’s the first thing your old and accustomed hand thinks of—to get rid of the swag as soon as he conveniently can after handling it. Probably the you…